Seventeen
Gill pulled the little black dress out of the wardrobe. It was her standby for formal occasions. Was it too formal for the Chamber of Commerce dinner? If only she could ask someone, but then they’d know she was attending with Joe Harris – she, who had sworn off men.
It would have to do, she decided. Joe had said black tie, and this was the most appropriate outfit she owned. Since his phone call the day before, Gill had lost count of the times her hand had reached for her phone to tell him she’d changed her mind. But each time, she had stopped before making the call. She must be mad.
Now it was five o’clock. In half an hour he’d be here, and they’d be on their way down the coast. It wasn’t a long trip, but long enough to spend with someone who was practically a stranger. What would they talk about? She wasn’t good at small talk, unless it was about work or one of the charitable organisations she belonged to. Maybe she could encourage him to talk about himself. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do on a date? A date? She was going on a date. Gill got that fluttery feeling in her stomach again, the one she’d felt in her office when the call from Joe ended.
While all this was going through her mind, Gill had managed to get dressed, apply makeup and brush her hair into its usual style. Now she slipped her feet into a pair of black high-heeled sandals – thank goodness Joe was taller than her – and examined herself in the mirror. She nodded and smiled at the image she presented. She looked, as always, the consummate professional. She was ready for whatever the evening had to offer.
The trip down the coast to Bellbird Bay was easier than Gill had expected. While at first, she asked Joe questions about his role as mayor, the conversation soon turned to books and music, and she discovered they had a lot in common.
‘Barb belonged to a book club,’ he said, when she expressed her surprise at his eclectic taste in books, ‘and I always read them too. It gave us a common interest, and I discovered authors I’d never have found otherwise.’
‘It’s my book club too.’
‘Really? I didn’t know.’
‘Barb was a lovely lady. You must miss her.’
‘Yes.’ Joe sighed heavily, and Gill wondered if it had been the wrong thing to say. What did one say to a widower about his deceased wife?
‘Thanks. It’s good to hear you speak of Barb. So many people avoid mentioning her. It’s as if she never existed. We were together for over thirty years. You can’t just wipe that out. But…’ he sighed again, ‘… life goes on.’ He glanced over at Gill and smiled. ‘You’ve been married too.’
Gill didn’t know if it was a question. She thought everyone knew about her and Max. ‘Yes, I still am.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know…’
‘It’s okay. It’s not something I talk about. Only a few friends are privy to the fact that while I can arrange divorces for others, I can’t seem to get my own settled.’
‘I didn’t mean to intrude.’
‘It’s okay.’ Gill realised it was. While she was normally at pains to keep her personal life to herself, she didn’t mind Joe knowing. He’d have to find out anyway if they were to become friends, she thought, suddenly struck by the realisation it might be nice to have Joe Harris as a friend. He was proving to be good company.
*
When they walked into the hotel, Gill was immediately struck by how spacious the foyer was. The large open area held a few comfortable-looking sofas and low tables, with a reception desk to one side. This evening, it was filled with groups of well-dressed people, all of whom seemed to know each other. Gill was glad she’d chosen the black dress. It was an unusual experience for her to find herself in a room full of strangers.
Joe ushered her towards a group of people standing in one corner. On the way, they paused to allow her to pick up a glass of champagne from one of the waiters moving through the crowd, while Joe chose a beer.
‘This is Will Rankin, and Cleo,’ Joe said when they reached the group. ‘Will’s mayor here in Bellbird Bay. Meet Gill Dickson,’ he said to them.
Gill smiled at Cleo and shook Will’s outstretched hand. He seemed an odd choice for mayor, looking more like the surfer Joe had said he used to be. His faded blond hair was tied back in a bun, and he seemed uncomfortable in the dinner suit and bow tie. Gill was sure he’d be more at home in board shorts and a tee-shirt.
Will turned to introduce the other couple in the group and Gill’s eyes widened in surprise to see Ali Wells.
‘I know this lady,’ Ali said. ‘Lovely to meet you again, Gill. This is my husband, Neil. He owns the local bookshop,’ she said clearly seeing Gill’s puzzled expression.
‘And lovely to see Joe with a partner,’ Cleo said. ‘He’s been on his own too long.’
‘Oh, we’re not…’ Gill began, but her attempt at an explanation was lost as another couple joined the group and were introduced as Leo and Greta Carlson. Gill recognised Greta from her forays down to Bellbird Bay to visit Greta’s boutique, Birds of a Feather , and from when Greta judged Fashions of the Field at the previous year’s Melbourne Cup Luncheon in Pelican Crossing. It appeared she knew some people here, after all.
At the sound of a bell, people began to move towards a door leading to the restaurant where Gill discovered she and Joe were seated at a table with the six people to whom they’d been chatting. She was seated between Joe and Ali, giving her the opportunity to renew her friendship with the other woman and apologise for not having been in touch.
As Joe had predicted, the meal was delicious, bowls of vichyssoise, followed by steak which melted in the mouth and was served with tiny potatoes, broccolini and baby carrots. The dessert was a decadent crème br?lée.
When coffee was served, Will Rankin rose and made his way to a podium. He welcomed everyone with a few jokes, then said, ‘It’s my pleasure tonight to introduce our guest speaker. Several of you will already be familiar with Joe Harris, mayor of neighbouring Pelican Crossing. Like The Bellbird Bugle , his town’s local newspaper was a casualty of the regional consortium’s decision to go digital and close down our local newspapers. Unlike Bellbird Bay, Pelican Crossing, led by their mayor, fought back and succeeded in funding the birth of a new paper which has risen like a phoenix from the ashes. He’s here tonight to tell us how he did it, and hopefully explain how we can learn from his example.’
Everyone cheered and banged on their tables as Joe rose to take Will’s place at the podium.
Gill was stunned. Joe hadn’t said anything about being the guest speaker. Confused, she missed the beginning of his speech, only tuning in to hear him praise Finn Hunter, editor of both The Crossing Courier and now The Crossing Echo , and former editor of The Bellbird Bugle . She listened avidly as he described how the town had come together to raise the funds required to establish the new paper and encouraged Bellbird Bay to follow their example. He resumed his seat to an enthusiastic round of applause.
‘Well done,’ she whispered when he took his place beside her again, gulping down a full glass of water. This was an aspect of Joe she wasn’t familiar with. She was impressed. ‘You didn’t tell me.’
Joe shrugged. ‘Nothing to tell, really. I’m glad it’s over.’
Now the evening was almost at an end, a wave of chatter erupted in the room. At their table, both Will and Leo were eager to question Joe about the details of the funding drive, but he batted away their questions, referring them to Finn who he said was in a better position to answer them than he was. ‘It’s him you should have here tonight,’ he said, ‘not me.’
Although not completely au fait with the funding process, Gill thought Joe was being too modest. From what she’d heard, Joe had been the driving force behind it.
Suddenly, it seemed, people began to leave. As Gill and Joe walked to the door with Will and Cleo, Cleo said, ‘I hope we see you again soon, Gill. It would be good to see a friendly face at these boring regional mayoral gatherings Will and I have to attend.’
‘Oh, I don’t think…’ But, yet again, her response was drowned out by Leo and Greta joining them to make their farewells.
Gill was embarrassed when she got into the car with Joe.
Neither spoke till they had left Bellbird Bay behind, then Joe said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think… Will and Cleo didn’t know Barb. They’ve only ever seen me on my own. It didn’t occur to me they’d draw the wrong conclusion… I could see you were embarrassed.’
‘Thanks. It’s okay.’ So why did Gill feel worse hearing Joe’s stumbling apology? ‘They seem like a nice group of people.’
‘They are. I hadn’t met the other two couples before, but you know Ali?’
‘And Greta. I’ve patronised Greta’s boutique. And I visited the women’s centre where Ali is director. They do such good work, I wanted to see it firsthand… and to invite her to speak to the Pelican Crossing Zonta group. Seeing her again reminded me I still have to set a date.’
‘Of course, you belong to all these organisations, don’t you?’
Gill felt a tinge of irritation. What was he suggesting?
As if sensing her annoyance, he said, ‘I didn’t mean to disparage you… or the groups you belong to. I expect that, like me, you need to be seen to be taking an active role in such things.’
‘Exactly.’ The word came out more strongly than Gill intended. ‘Tell me about Bellbird Bay,’ she said, to soften the atmosphere which was in danger of becoming fraught. ‘I’ve only been there to replenish my wardrobe at Birds of a Feather . The women’s centre is on the outskirts of the town.’
‘It’s much like Pelican Crossing,’ Joe said. ‘A tad smaller. It’s more of a surfing town than ours, with a thriving surf club and surf culture. Will still runs his surf school, and his son designs and makes surfboards. He’s a surfing champion too, a chip off the old block.’
‘And Ali’s husband owns the local bookshop? I think I’ve seen it when I came down to shop.’
‘It belonged to his father, but the old man’s not up to it these days. I’ve only heard about it from Finn Hunter. He was the editor of the Bellbird Bay local paper before moving to Pelican Crossing.’
‘You said.’ Gill remembered Joe’s speech. ‘That was a wonderful talk you gave,’ she said. ‘I hope it bears fruit and they can revive their local paper too.’
‘I hope so. It won’t be easy. We were able to resurrect ours before it died completely. They’d have to start from scratch.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Tell me a bit about yourself,’ Joe said, changing the subject. ‘What made you decide to specialise in divorce and family law?’
For the rest of the trip, Gill gave Joe a potted version of her law career, making him laugh with some of her more amusing anecdotes.
‘And it hasn’t put you off men?’ he asked with a chuckle when she had finished.
‘Actually, it has.’ Gill hesitated before adding, ‘Tonight is the first evening I’ve spent with a man since my husband left.’
‘I feel honoured,’ Joe said.
Gill felt rather than saw him glance at her. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘You’d been kind to me. It would have been churlish to decline. We all need friends.’
‘Thank you. And I’m sorry again you felt embarrassed. Friends?’
‘Friends,’ she agreed, pleased he didn’t want anything more intimate. He was a nice man, but she wasn’t ready to let down the barriers she’d constructed around her emotions.